


A Fashion Statement

by coolbyrne



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, post-episode, s17e12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:18:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: That was an awfully nice sweater Gibbs was wearing at the end of "Flight Plan". Bishop susses out who bought it for him. Slibbs
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Comments: 32
Kudos: 156





	A Fashion Statement

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little fun idea after us Slibbs fans oooh'd and ahhhh'd over Gibbs' (new!) charcoal sweater.

Jack looked up from her paperwork and greeted Bishop with a cheerful, “Hey!” which the young agent took as an invitation. Stepping into the office, she plopped down in the chair opposite Jack, but not before nabbing a lollipop.

“No judging,” Bishop said, wagging the colour.

Jack held up her hands, protesting her innocence. “No judging.” Sitting back, she asked, “What brings you by?”

Bishop deftly pulled the candy from the wrapper and popped it into her mouth. “I haven’t had a chance in all this craziness to ask you, how was your Christmas?”

Jack rolled her eyes at the memory of everything that happened around the holiday, but smiled at the recollection of the actual day. “It was quiet,” she said. “Blissfully quiet.”

“That must have been nice,” Ellie said. “You spend it by yourself?”

There was something in the question that caused Jack to give a minute head tilt before replying, “No. How was your Christmas? How was Oklahoma?” Seeing Bishop’s dismay at the shift in focus was enough for Jack to know her suspicions were true.

“Not quiet. No snow.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. We got snowed in.”

Sensing an opening to bring the topic back around to Jack, Bishop said, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

With an ease that she suspected a certain Marine wouldn’t extend, Jack smiled. “What’s on your mind, Eleanor?”

She sucked on the lollipop, feigning innocence. “Nothing. Just touching base after the holidays.”

“I see.”

“And, you know, just to say that’s a really nice sweater you bought Gibbs.” When she couldn’t find a tell in Jack’s poker face, a sliver of doubt crept into Bishop’s theory. “You _did_ buy that sweater for him, right? I mean, there’s no way Gibbs is buying himself a lambswool sweater.”

Jack smiled at the honest assessment of Gibbs’ lack of luxury. “That’s very specific- how do you know it’s lambswool?”

“Nick told me,” she replied. “Right after he pressed his cheek against Gibbs’ chest and purred.”

The image made Jack burst out laughing. “Oh, I wish I had been there!”

“I’ll give Nick credit, he has no shame, and he took that glare like a champ.” When their laughter died down, she ventured ahead again. “So… you did buy that sweater, right?”

Figuring there was no point in denying it, Jack said, “Yes, I bought that sweater.” Attempting to downplay it, she added, “The man owns 3 shirts, 4 jackets and 2 sweaters!”

“I love that you know that.”

The gentle way Bishop pointed out her inventory count of Gibbs’ wardrobe brought a heat to her cheeks that she didn’t expect. Bishop saw the flush and grinned, which only made the heat hotter.

Taking the tease out of her words, Bishop said, “And I love that you love him.”

Reflexively, Jack’s hand came up to cover her heart. She knew she didn’t need the approval of his team, but knowing she had it from at least one of them -and the one he’d never admit he loved best -made her heart feel full even as she felt the weight lift from her shoulders.

“We’re… we’re really new.” For a woman who was paid to put thoughts and feelings into words, she chastised herself for floundering when those thoughts and feelings came around to her and Gibbs.

“And yet you’re not, are you? I mean, the sweater’s new but you two aren’t. Not really. Even if it took you this long to realize it.”

“Should we switch seats?” Jack asked in an attempt to deflect how startling accurate Bishop was. No, they hadn’t been together for ages, but it _felt_ like they had, like it was only an inconvenience of time that had kept them apart.

“Nope,” Bishop said. “I’d have that entire jar eaten by the end of the day.”

A knock brought their attention to the door.

“M’I interrupting anything?”

Bishop stood and waved her lollipop at Gibbs. “Nope. Just getting my sugar fix. Thanks, Jack.”

“Any time, Ellie.”

She walked past Gibbs, pointed at his chest, whispered, “Nice sweater,” and was out the door before he could scowl.

The scowl remained as he came into the office, and Jack shrugged, coming around her desk to stand in front of him.

"It's a nice sweater."

"So I've been told. Repeatedly. Kasie tried to pet me and Torres wanted to cuddle." He said the last word like he just smelled bad milk.

Smiling, she traced the hem and brushed her fingers down his front. When her hand finished its journey and pulled away, he circled his fingers around her wrist and brought her hand back up to his collar.

"I see," she smirked. "So it's not the petting you object to, it's the one doing the petting." 

He pretended she wasn't 100% accurate, pretended her touch didn't seep right to his lungs. 

"I am surprised you wore it," she admitted, hooking her finger in the V of the collar.

"I thought that's why you bought it."

She slapped his chest at his dry delivery. "Don't be an ass. I just mean…" What _did_ she mean? She loved that he wore it, even under threat of team scrutiny. "It's just… a statement." 

A statement that they were 'a thing', a 'something'. And for a man who valued his privacy the way he did, she didn't take that lightly. His blue eyes told her he knew what it meant, and that he gladly accepted the consequences. Bowing her head, she offered her thanks with another caress and a smile hidden by her hair.

"It pleases me."

His eyebrow arched at the admission which sounded part sultry come-on, part bashful confession. 

"Anything else I can do for ya, Sloane?"

His banter brought back her confidence. "Oh, Cowboy, I have a _list_."

A quick knock preceded Vance's arrival. Jack immediately pulled away, but Gibbs held her close, and if the way she pressed her lips together to hide her smile was anything to go by, it was another item on her list fulfilled. Leon barely acknowledged the newfound honesty in their relationship. 

"Wondered if you had that Gessler report finished."

"Yes." This time, he let go when she pulled away, albeit reluctantly. She pulled a file from underneath a stack. "The answer to your question is 'yes'," she said, maintaining the professional confidentiality, "but it's up to you."

"I'll defer to your judgment, Jack." He turned to leave but not before tapping Gibbs on the shoulder with the corner of the file. "Nice sweater."

Gibbs's jaw set as he watched Leon exit. "Next time I wear somethin' new, I'll make sure to have a fashion show so everyone can comment at once."

"Oh, would you?" Jack asked, coming to stand in front of Gibbs again.

He looked down and watched her restless fingers fidget over the soft wool. Seeing the twitch pull up the corner of her mouth, he replied, "Is that on your list?"

The twitch became a full blown smile. “No. As good as you can look in clothes, I have a soft spot for you without them.”

“Is that why I’ve got no Marine Corps shirts?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” she said, proudly lifting her chin.

His mouth adopted a twitch of its own. “Yeah, I bet you don’t.”

Her wandering hands found their way under the bottom of the sweater. “If you’re good, I can model this for you later.”

He nearly choked on her forwardness, but found enough breath to lowly admit, “That’s definitely on _my_ list.”

“Go,” she said with a grin. “I just need to finish up my report.”

Her hands left him and he frowned. “And I’ve got to pretend I don’t know about Tim’s ‘special’ surgery,” he said.

She sympathized with a soft pat to his cheek. “Come get me in an hour and that sweater might not be the only thing I’ll model. I _may_ know where one or two of those USMC shirts are.”

He was back in 59 minutes.

…..

-end.


End file.
